Not Again
by Mis Speller
Summary: He was the spitting image of his father and he inherited the brilliant green eyes of his mother. But for Albus Dumbledore, when Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts to start his education, it was as if time had ripped open. There was something familiar about Harry, something that reminded him of the dark haired and polite orphan had been sorted into Slytherin in the year 1938.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

xxx

Harry felt another streak of sweat rolling down his back and disappearing into the waistband of his jeans that were fastened with an old belt that had once belonged to his cousin Dudley. Dudley had outgrown the belt but it would be a long time before he would manage to do that. The worn out thing looped almost twice around his skinny frame.

For what was like the tenth time, he silently cursed the sun, the heat and Aunt Petunia all at once as he splashed the remaining drops of water from the can into the pot. Straightening up, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand that was equally covered with perspiration.

"Hey, freak face!" a voice yelled.

Harry whirled around, dropping the water can onto the neatly mowed grass, his fists clenching into balls as his cousin walked or rather, wadded his way over the low wall of the garden. His best friend and sidekick followed close behind, cracking his knuckles in what was supposed to be a threatening manner. His rat like face contorted unpleasantly as he grinned at Harry.

Ten years of living with the Dursleys had taught him to always observe and notice and he noticed what Dudley was holding in his hand even before he had lifted it up and said, "Look what I found."

Harry's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the worn out copy of_ A Wizard of the Earth Sea_, a book that he had found at Mrs. Figg's place when he had been staying there during Dudley's birthday. Mrs. Figg had let him borrow it after subjecting him to the torture of looking through cat pictures for over an hour.

Don't get angry, he told himself. Don't get angry.

"Why," he spoke calmly, "were you searching through my stuff?"

Dudley's overly large face that was attached to a head that Harry was sure only contained minute traces of a fully functioning brain was now rapidly changing its hue from pink to red as he got excited at the thought of the inevitable fight. A fight that he might win using brute force or Harry might escape from using his brain.

"You don't own it, you stupid freak," Dudley grinned. "You don't own _anything_."

Harry felt his expression falter and the truth of what Dudley his had said hit him hard in the chest. It was true, he didn't own it. He didn't own much of anything for that matter but he was borrowing that book and that kind of made the book _his _until he returned it.

"Here, watch this," Dudley held his hand and the book higher in the air and Piers sidled closer, sniggering.

The first sound of the pages ripping was unnaturally loud to his ears and the blood inside him roared in frenzy with anger and something else flickered with it, something he couldn't put his finger on but it felt so _natural_.

It all happened in a few moments.

Dudley's scream cut through the air as the book burst into flames, the streaks of flames gnawing at his hands as if it had a mind of its own. Piers yelped, breaking into a sprint and making a beeline for safety as Dudley danced wildly on the spot, dropping the book as the flames burnt away.

Only half surprised but a bit shocked at the force of the fire, Harry stared, brows furrowed and green eyes burning with concentration as he etched the scene into his mind, burning every little detail into his memory for all time. In the back of his mind, he knew that he would be punished for this but the thought mattered little to him right now.

Dudley screamed again and turned to flee as book rolled over to near his feet and Harry couldn't help the corners of his mouth twitching at the glimpse of horror in those eyes.

Pathetic.

xxx

To say that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been furious would the understatement of the century. His ears were still ringing from her shrieks and between her screaming and Dudley's wailing, Uncle Vernon had only managed to get in three words, 'cupboard', 'no' and 'meals'.

Lying in the dark cupboard, Harry twiddled his thumbs.

There was a time that he was sure when things had been different, when he had been different. That was back when Harry just knew that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did not like him as much as Dudley. He had thought that it was because he wasn't good enough or did enough. Both possibilities had been proven wrong soon enough.

He knew that he was smarter than Dudley, in fact; he knew that he was smarter than any other kid in school but no one believed it. The teachers were told that he was a cheat and that had effectively taken away all of his chances at getting high grades because they did not believe that he did not cheat. He was most certainly better behaved than Dudley too; another fact that no one seemed to notice.

He knew that he helped out Aunt Petunia more. He mad breakfast, he helped with dinner, he tended to the garden and he was the one who always fetched things around the house whenever Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon needed something. As for Dudley, well, he never did anything except eat and play games and bully Harry.

After a few years he had grown old enough to understand that it wasn't about what he did or did not do, it was about the fact that he was there, that he simply existed and yet, he didn't belong here.

Life was always worse at school where the kids laughed at his clothes and his old books. The constant pickings led by Dudley added to the suffering and Harry had seriously thought about skiving off but had refrained, because it would mean they were winning.

If there was one thing that he liked about his life or himself, it was the strange things that happened to him.

Like that time when he had been running away from Dudley and some of his friends when he found himself on the roof.

Or that time when he had been pushed off the stairs and found himself standing on the landing, dazed and yet, unharmed.

Granted, it did add to his punishments that he always got because of Dudley, rather than through his own wrongdoing. Aunt Petunia would scream herself hoarse at him every time one of the 'freak accidents' happened and Uncle Vernon would send him to his cupboard without his meals.

Several incidents later, the shock had worn off and Harry had been curious, waiting for the things to happen because he wanted to know how it happened. Then he had tried to make those things happen and he realized that he could. He could make things move or fly or sometimes even disappear if he wanted to. The trick, he had figured out, was not to force it but to just concentrate calmly, without fear.

The whole thing was bizarre and unexplainable but no one else seemed to be able to do it and after some carefully planned 'accidents', the kids at school had started to leave him alone. Dudley, who had confidence that Harry could never go too far with him had never ceased his bullying but he couldn't bother Harry as much as he did before.

All in all, the strange things he could do were his one and only source of comfort. It gave him that brief respite from everyone and everything in the world that seemed determined to dislike him.

Turning himself over, Harry closed his eyes. He was ten years old but one day, he was going to grow up and then he could run away and take care of himself. He would go someplace far away and become someone important and he would do important things that would make a difference. And he would become better than everyone else so that they would be too scared to bully him.

xxx

Dudley had apparently learnt his lesson because by the time Harry was allowed to leave the cupboard, the larger boy tiptoed around him, contenting himself to make faces at him. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon seemed determined to pretend that he didn't exist and the novelty of being left alone worn off too soon and he wished someone, anyone would talk to him.

And because Harry was far from normal, his wish was granted in the most unexpected manner.

The garden was probably Aunt Petunia's favourite place in the world. It was meticulous and showed the neighbours just how well she took care of her home. It also served as an excellent place to send Harry off to when she wanted him out of sight.

And that was how Harry found himself in the stupid place, too early in the morning.

Dudley and Uncle were both asleep and Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen, preparing one of those fancy cakes for her 'little angel'. Harry had resisted the urge to point out that the greedy pig hardly needed any more fattening.

Weeding the garden was a chore that was boring and time consuming. The fact that it would mean getting all sweaty made him like it even less.

Wallowing in self-pity, Harry set about, surveying the place and starting with a small bunch of weeds that had a tendency to sprout once every few days. The sun hadn't even fully risen in the sky and the warmth of the early rays was comforting.

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

He turned his head casually at the movement and froze at the sight.

That was a snake. A bloody snake.

His heart hammered and the dirt on his hands forgotten, he nervously wiped his hands on his large shirt, moving to pick up the small shovel nearby.

It's head turned and harry froze as their eyes met, appraising and sizing up each other.

He recalled the lesson about snakes.

Look at the head. Observe the shape. Snakes that are venomous usually have triangular or diamond shaped heads.

This one's head didn't look like it was diamond shaped.

His eyes roamed over the brown scales glittering against the sunlight and Harry felt his heart slowing down.

A grass snake.

It was probably harmless enough.

And judging by the undaunted stare, it obviously shared the same opinion towards him

"You starled me," Harry muttered.

It looked surprised. He hadn't even known that snakes could look surprised.

It glided forward, head raised.

Panicking once again, Harry scrambled backwards.

_"A speaker,"_ it hissed.

Wait.

"What?" he choked out.

_"A speaker,"_ it repeated again.

This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

But strange things were his forte, weren't they?

Harry swallowed, craning his neck and making sure that no one was in sight before leaning down, a new rush of excitement surging inside him.

"You can talk," he whispered.

Strange how his voice sounded different, even to his own ears.

It cocked its head. _"You are a speaker."_

It seemed to be obsessed with that word.

"What is a speaker?"

_"The noble tongue. You speak it,"_ it slithered closer and Harry could now make out the individual scales glistening. _"I was told by elders that there was none. Not since some time ago. The wizards, they are few. And speakers even fewer."_

Alright, the noble tongue was snake language. And few people could speak to snakes. Harry could understand that. After all, he was yet to meet another person who do the strange things that he could.

"What is a wizard?"

_"Magical humans,"_ it was starting to look at Harry as if it was not sure if he was toying with it.

"Magic is not real," Harry repeated the words that Uncle Vernon often yelled, hoping against hope that he would be proven wrong.

It looked amused. _"Of course it is."_

"Is it what I am doing? Talking to you. Is this magic?" he had so many questions. "I can make things move and disappear. Or set them on fire. Is that magic?"

_"I have heard that wizards do that and more,"_ it curled up in front of him, settling down comfortably._ "But you are a wizard, are you not? How else do you speak the noble tongue?"_

So many questions.

"Where are the others? The other wizards, people like me?"

"They live... in different places," it looked uncertain. "I have heard of a place. Beyond the plains, up the big mountains where many young ones gather. Our noblest speaker Master Slytherin built the place. That was a long time ago."

The head rose higher once again and it looked _happy_. _"You are of his blood. The speakers are all of his blood."_

"Who was Slytherin?"

_"The noblest speaker,"_ it repeated.

Harry thought that either this snake wasn't very bright or all of them were like this. He fervently hoped it wasn't the latter.

_"Yes, but who was he?"_ Harry pressed.

_"A long time ago, he lived and he helped us. He could speak to us and there were many of us that he kept with him. He took our elders to many places and gave new homes, safe places to live."_ It looked embarrassed. _"That is what I heard. I do not know much, Master."_

Harry didn't have time to react to the uncustomary title.

A shadow fell over and they both jerked their heads up at the sky.

An owl was fluttering above in a circle with something dangling from its legs.

The snake seemed intent to explain it to him. _"They are messengers of the wizards."_

The owl fluttered down gracefully to his right and Harry leaned in towards it.

"Hello, there," he whispered gently.

It gave him an affectionate nip and stuck out its leg.

His hands trembled with excitement as he untied the large parchment, ripping it open as both of his companions watched with patience.

He read it once but the words swirled through his head too fast and he read it again, letting the words sink in.

This was all to elaborate to be a joke. He was going to a school. A boarding school, it seemed. And he would learn magic.

The excitement was rapidly replaced with anxiety.

Where would he get these things from? Hell would freeze over before Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would buy him a wand. Or a cauldron. Or any of these things, really.

"Listen," he whispered urgently to the owl. "Wait here. Please wait here. I will be back. I need you to take a letter from me to the people who sent this to me. Can you understand me?"

The nod meant the world to him.

"Okay. Wait," he turned to the snake.

"Can you please stay and make sure it doesn't fly away?" he asked.

Harry could have sworn that the owl looked offended at this.

The snake was nodding. _"If it disobeys, I will kill it for you, Master."_

"What? No, don't kill it." Harry bent down again. "Just make sure it stays here, alive."

His reptile friend looked bewildered. _"I can try, Master. But if it's a traitor, I can kill it for you."_

Harry threw up his hands. "Don't," he repeated the words, "kill it."

The snake nodded with determination. "I will not kill it, Master."

Harry left, his heart racing.

xxx

He squinted at the old watch that had once been Vernon's.

06:03 in the morning.

He rolled over on the thin mattress. He had missed dinner last night, thanks to Dudley. The growing hunger in his belly was bothering him but it was nothing next to the mounting fear that the whole thing had not happened, that it had all been a figment of his imagination. He had sent the letter but what if hadn't gone back to the people at Howgarts? What if the owl had been caught? It could have easily dropped the letter which he had tied to its legs with trembling hands. He burrowed his head deeper into the pillow.

_Please let it be real._

_Please let them come._

_Please get me out of here._

It took a while for him to realize that the doorbell was ringing.

He jerked his head, completely alert.

It was too early for visitors, wasn't it?

The doorbell rang again insistently.

Not daring to hope, he hurriedly opened the door of the cupboard just as someone stampeded down the stairs.

Dudley was sleeping over at Piers so that could only be Uncle Vernon.

The noise was accompanied by the sound of Aunt Petunia following her husband slower and lighter steps.

Clambering out and moving back to a safe distance, Harry had barely has the time to register the furious look on Uncle Vernon's face as he crossed the landing with his wife who was wearing a hideous pink bathrobe.

"Do you know-" Uncle Vernon threw the door open, his face turning the same shade as his wife's bathrobe.

The woman standing there was stout and dressed in what looked like a dark robe with a brown cloak over it. Her strange assemble was completed by a pointed hat that she did not bother to take off as she swept inside without further ado; her kind face beaming at Uncle Vernon.

Harry's heart was thudding hopefully.

"Good morning, sir."

Aunt Petunia gasped and he was sure that she swayed for a moment. Uncle Vernon for his part looked stupefied though if it was at her bizarre clothes or her complete obliviousness at his fury was unclear.

"Listen, you can't just-"

"Do forgive me. I don't believe I have introduced myself yet," she gave a slight bow. "Professor Pomona Sprout, Head of House Hufflepuff at Hogwarts."

The Dursleys, minus Dudley of course, looked gobsmacked at this announcement.

"I teach Herbology," the Professor added kindly. "And I am here to pick up Harry Potter."

Silence filled the place as Harry contemplated between laughing with joy and running away from what he would sure be a very explosive episode of Uncle Vernon losing his temper with this woman. Or rather, Professor Sprout.

Harry flinched as Uncle Vernon's voice drummed painfully against his ears.

"I WILL NOT HAVE YOU LOT SPOUTING THAT HOCUS-POCUS IN MY HOUSE!"

Professor Sprout looked positively alarmed at this. "My dear sir-"

Aunt Petunia's shriek was louder, "I knew it! I knew they would come-. Just like _her_-" she pointed her finger at the Professor. "She is one of _them_!"

It was time to get this over with.

"I'm Harry," he said loudly.

Aunt Petunia shrieked again while Uncle Vernon blustered more about 'freaks' and 'teapot tricks'. The Professor moved so fast that he could have sworn she had flown at him, gushing, "Oh, it is you!"

The bone hugging crush knocked the breath out of him and Harry, who for the life of him couldn't ever remember being hugged by anyone in his life, savoured the moment even as Uncle Vernon roared in the background.

"I AM TELING YOU, HE IS NOT GOING TO THAT RIDICULOUS PLACE AND LEARN YOUR TRICKS-"

She released her hold while wrapping a protective arm around his shoulder.

"Do you mean that you don't want Harry to go to Hogwarts?" she looked shocked. "But of course he has to. Why, Harry Potter not going to Hogwarts. Don't be ridiculous."

"I-"Uncle Vernon jabbed a finger at the Professor who even at her fullest height, barely reached his shoulders. "WILL. NOT. ALLOW. IT."

The transformation was amazing as her kind face turned to one seething with anger. "And by Helga, I would love to see you try and stop me," she swiped out a stick, its tips crackling with sparks.

"Vernon, don't," Aunt Petunia admonished. Her eyes darted fearfully between the stick and the angry woman holding it. "Let them go. Just let them leave."

Harry's mind worked furiously. That stick must be the wand. It looked like it.

Was it was dangerous? It certainly seemed to terrify Aunt Petunia.

The soft nudge made him look up.

Professor Sprout's anger was bubbling but her voice was soft as she spoke to him.

"Go and get dressed, dear. We have a lot to do today."

His heart gave a silent whoop of joy even as Uncle Vernon glared at his back.

Professor Sprout could evidently scream just as loud as Uncle Vernon, a fact proven when Harry crouched down and opened the door to reach the bundle of his meagre set of clothes.

"YOU MAKE HIM SLEEP IN A CUPBOARD?"

xxx

Harry wasn't sure what made him happier, the fact that he was going to a new school, (to Hogwarts, he corrected himself); or the fact that he was getting a room all for himself.

Granted, it was the smallest bedroom and it was filled with the toys that Dudley had broken and/or did not want anymore but nevertheless, it was a large improvement over the cramped cupboard. And for making it happen, he was immensely grateful to Professor Sprout who was right now distractedly muttering to herself something about a cauldron that leaked.

"We need to get there first," she looked down at him.

"Get where, Professor?" he asked carefully.

"The Leaky Cauldron, dear," she smiled.

He increased his pace, trying to keep up with her brisk pace as they walked through the streets of London.

It was early in the morning but people were still up and about, rushing to get to places and get things done.

A blonde woman in a suit brushed past them and like many people who noticed them, her lips quirked at Professor Sprouts' clothes who was either unaware of the stares or was not bothered by them in the slightest.

His head was bursting with questions but they were pushed to the back of his mind as she started explaining how they were going to Diagon Alley.

It was all so fascinating and it was when she started to talk about buying robes when he remembered something.

"Err…Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Err, I don't really-" his mind flooded with doubts again. "Well, I wrote in the letter- about money. Idon'thaveanymoney," he finished in a rush.

Professor Sprout looked at him, her expression torn between pity and love. "Harry, dear, you have a lot of money," she said in low voice. "Your parents did leave you an inheritance."

This was news to him. Great news, in fact.

"Then where is it?" he asked.

"In Gringotts," she caught the puzzled look on his face. "That is the wizard's bank. It is the safest place in the Wizarding world. Well, that and Hogwarts, of course."

"There is a wizard's bank?"

She nodded and came to an abrupt stop. "It is run by goblins." She pointed her finger. "There. Leaky Cauldron,"

The place was nestled between a bookshop and a record store, both of them looking bright and catching immediate attention. The Leaky Cauldron in contrast, looked almost boring and unnoticeable.

He had a suspension that there was some magic involved there to make it look like that. After all, it wouldn't be easy if non-magical people kept walking in there all the time to get a drink.

Professor Sprout started walking again, this time grabbing his handing and holding on tightly.

She bent down. "Stay close to me, alright?"

He nodded, trying to school his features into a neutral expression as she walked him inside.

His whole life was going to change and he couldn't wait.

xxx

Diagon Alley brimmed with magic and Harry wanted to explore every little thing about the place. There were few people in the streets and Harry had a suspicion that Professor Sprout had brought him early just to avoid too many people.

Why, the few people he had met in Leaky Cauldron had almost knocked that breath out of him and he was sure that he had shook hands at least twenty times even though there were only about seven people inside the place.

They all knew him!

At least, they seemed to recognize his scar.

She made sure that he stayed close to her even now as they walked out of Gringotts, the bag of coins jingling and weighing heavily in his pocket.

"Why does everyone know me?" he blurted out the first question in his mind.

She looked at him, gently steering him to the side of the street and bending down.

He had a guess that she had been prepared for this question.

"Harry, dear," she brushed a lock of his hair aside. "Some time ago, there a wizard who did very bad things. He wanted to- well, he killed a lot people and your parents were with Professor Dumbledore, fighting against him. When you were a baby, he came to your house and killed your parents." He voice faltered and she swallowed while he waited for her to continue. "And then he tried to kill you but- well, it didn't work. You didn't die and he disappeared." She looked at him with fondness. "You are the only known person to survive the killing curse. And you are the reason why You-Know-Him disappeared. That is why you are famous."

The information buzzed through his mind and he turned it over, questioning and clarifying rapidly.

"You-Know-Who is the wizard who killed my parents?"

"Yes."

"What is his real name? He does have a real name, doesn't he?" he frowned.

"Of course he does, dear, it's just that-" she looked uneasy. "People are afraid of him and to speak his name, well-. People say it's jinxed."

"But you said that he is gone now," Harry pointed out.

"He is," she confirmed. She dropped her voice to a whisper, "But people are still afraid."

"They are still afraid to say his name?" he was dumbfounded and fascinated.

She nodded.

"Can you tell me? Just once?" he pleaded.

She looked like she would refuse but his pleading eyes won over.

Professor Sprout opened her mouth, looking like she was about to taste something incredibly foul. "They called him Lord V-Voldemort," her voice quivered.

He pushed ahead with his interrogation. "Professor Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is."

"So my parents were fighting with him against Voldemort," he pretended not to notice her flinch, "and when my parents died, I was taken to live with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

"That's right."

"They are not wizards though," he mused.

"They are what we call muggles. People who don't have magic. Your mother was a witch even though her family were all muggles." Professor Sprout explained.

"What about my father? Was his family all muggles too?"

"No. The Potters are one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain. In fact, they are descendants of Godric Gryffindor."

"Then," he asked quietly, "why did you leave me with the Dursleys? Don't I have any family here?"

"Well, dear. Your father was an only child. As was your grandfather and great-grandfather, I think."

The brief inkling of hope threatened to disappear. "So, I don't have any family here?" he tried to keep the longing out of his voice.

She looked taken aback as if she had never thought of the question. "Well, your grandmother was Dorea Black and they always were a large family. Let me think," she appeared to be concentrating very hard to recall something.

"I should start with the Black daughters, Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. Andromeda is the eldest and she married Tonks. They did not like that because he is muggleborn. Poor girl got disowned for it. They have a daughter, Nymphodora. She's in my house," the professor said proudly. "Then there is Bellatrix, she's the insane one, and Narcissa, she is married to Lucius Malfoy and they have a son your age. Now," she said carefully, "their father was Cygnus Black who was the son of Pollux Black. Pollux Black was your grandmother's brother, I believe. Pollux also had a daughter, Walburga and she married her first cousin and she had two sons by him. There was Regulus and- and another one," she looked thoroughly confused and uneasy.

Harry closed his eyes, drawings the lines in his mind even though his brain was threatening to explode with the overload of information.

"Cygnus and Walburga were my Dad's first cousins. Cygnus's daughters and Walburga's sons are my second cousins. So Nymphodora and the son of Bella- no, Narcissa, are my relatives too," he looked at her expectantly.

She still looked confused but nodded.

"I think that sounds about right. The Blacks were great supporters of You-Know-Who though. Except Andromeda, but she is a Tonks."

Harry wasn't really listening. They were distant, yes, but they were his family all the same and the thought that he might meet them was just unbelievable.

"Will I meet Nymphodora in Hogwarts?" he asked eagerly.

She beamed at him. "Of course you will. And the son of Narcissa too. He will be in your year."

"Now," she took his hand, "how would you like to start buying everything for school? We should save the wand for last, I think."

He wanted the wand first, but he was not about to whine like Dudley, not when he knew that he would get it soon.

"Okay."

They stared walking again.

"So who is Godric Gryffindor?" Harry asked.

xxx

Theodore Nott was bored but waited patiently, holding the brand new wand he had purchased moments ago. It was close to mid-afternoon and by all accounts, he should already be done and back at home by now.

"Your father is taking a long time," Ollivander rasped.

"Yes he is," he agreed.

How long did it take to purchase some books and potion ingredients, honestly?

"Come here," the wispy wandmaker crooked his finger at him.

Dreading another gruelling five minutes of listening about the details of every other wand that had been used by his family members, he got up from the chair slowly, making his way through the darkened room.

Ollivander was blowing off the dust from one of the boxes, lifting the lid carefully.

He lowered it, showing the wand inside.

"Do you know what kind of a wand this is?"

Was this man serious?

"No," he replied shortly.

"It is made of holly. I used a phoenix feather for its core." He looked down at him. "Do you know what a wand is used for?"

This was an easier question.

"To channel magic," Theodore answered.

"And the strength of the magic from a wand would depend on a lot of things," Ollivander whispered. "For the wand, you have to factor in the core, the wood, the length and flexibility. For the wizard, you need to think of the magical strength of the wizard and his experience. And sometimes, even the control over his emotions."

Those grey eyes were almost feverish and Theodore wondered if he was sane.

The man was undoubtedly a genius but he did seem too fanatical about wands.

The bell chimed softly, indicating that Ollivander had a new customer.

He seemed to break out of his reverie but if it was possible, he looked even more excited.

"Oh, yes. I have been expecting him. About time too," he glanced at Theodore. "Why don't you go and take a seat again?"

In all honesty, he wanted to walk out of the place but he had been ordered to stay there until Father came back to collect him and orders from his father were always meant to be followed so he walked back, and sunk into his chair again.

A middle aged woman and a small boy walked in. The boy looked like he was a First Year too.

Ollivander's voice broke in again.

"Ah, Harry Potter. I have been expecting you."

Theodore sat upright in his chair.

Harry Potter?

This could be very interesting.

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

xxx

Between buying his school supplies, Professor Sprout indulging him with ice-cream (a first in his life) plus a brand new owl and her endless patience with his questions, he had momentarily forgotten about his wand. The eagerness returned as soon as she mentioned that they had bought everything except the wand.

Harry stopped with the questions and they walked into Ollivander's sombrely. The first thing that he noticed was that the entire store looked old as if it had been unchanged for hundreds of years. A dirty blond haired boy was sitting on a chair near the door, his face impassive. Harry wondered if he was a First Year as well when a man materialized out of the shadows.

"Ah, Harry Potter. I have been expecting you."

The man's eyes were a pale grey that matched his thin wispy hair. He stared at Harry unblinkingly and he felt a nervous tingle crawling up his skin. He reminded Harry of the mad scientist on one of those shows that Dudley liked to watch because it had plenty of fighting in it.

Professor Sprout seemed unaffected and in her element as she flashed as genuine smile. "It is good to see you again, Mr. Ollivander."

She might have just as well been invisible as Ollivander peered at Harry.

"Lily Evans, ten and a quarter inches and willow. Swishy, excellent for charm work," he said.

Taken aback, Harry remained silent but he thought he heard a sigh from behind him and it certainly wasn't from Professor Sprout.

"James Potter, eleven inches and mahogany. Pliable, works well especially for Transfiguration," the eccentric man continued.

He wondered if Ollivander remembered every single wand he sold or if this was a special case.

"Which is your wand arm?"

Wand arm?

"I am left handed," Harry replied.

"Hold it out," Ollivander had already turned his back and was rummaging through the shelves, pulling out boxes with a frenzy that was starting to worry him.

It was like being back in Madam Malkins, with the measuring tape magically taking his measurements.

"That will do."

The measuring tape promptly dropped onto the floor.

"Here," Ollivander held out a wand.

Smiling slightly in spite of his nervousness, Harry took it but it was immediately snatched from him.

"No, no. Not this one. Try this," Ollivander held out another one.

And it was taken back again.

xxx

Theodore was growing more and more mystified by the second. It had taken him about five minutes to find a wand and Harry Potter was very likely breaking a record here, already clocking in over twenty minutes of trying out different wands. The boxes around him were piling up and the small boy looked in danger of disappearing underneath them.

If Potter was frustrated, he hid it very well under that polite face.

His guardian, whom he had once addressed as 'Professor', was waiting patiently, offering encouraging words every now and then.

The wandmaker was growing more excited by the second and Theodore could not decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

What he did know was that he was now genuinely hoping that his father wouldn't arrive until this was over.

Potter turned abruptly after another wand had been snatched from him.

"Did it take you this long to find one?"

The question was as surprising as the faintly commanding tone accompanying it.

"No," he said shortly. Then, trying not to sound rude, added "it took me about five minutes."

Disappointingly, Potter did not continue the conversation.

Ollivander was searching for another wand, which might just as well be one of the few wands that Potter had not tried yet.

The wandmaker seemed to find what he was looking and Theodore craned his neck to catch sight of the box. It was the same one that he had been shown earlier. Staring at it with more attention this time, Theodore realized that it looked old, older than any other box he had seen here. Ollivander blew softly at the lid and the dust that was unsettled off the material clouded the stale air and disappeared slowly.

"Here," Ollivander held it out, watching Potter with intense eyes. "Eleven inches and holly. Phoenix feather. Try it."

The moment Potter took it, gold and green sparks flew from its tips and Theodore could have sworn that he looked taller, a lot more confident with it. The grin he gave was infectious and he couldn't help the slight tug that quirked the corners of his mouth while the Professor clapped and hugged Potter.

Ollivander was muttering, "curious, curious…"

Potter, bless his curiosity, asked the same question on his mind. "What is curious?"

He strained his ear but it was needless, the whispered words sounded extremely loud inside the dingy store. "I remember every wand I ever sold, Mr. Potter. And remember, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way around."

Theodore was sitting at the edge of the chair now, not wanting to miss a word.

"You see, the Phoenix that gave me the feather gave me one other, just one other feather that I used for another wand. It is curious that this wand should choose you when its brother…" he raised a finger, lightly brushing it against Potter's forehead, "when its brother gave you this scar."

His heart missed a beat and the gasp from the Professor was drowned out as Ollivander went on speaking. "I suppose this means that we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible yes, but great."

Theodore couldn't decide which one was more surreal, the fact that the brother wand of the Dark Lord has chosen Potter, or the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived looked completely at ease with the news.

xxx

He finished the last chapter of _Magical Drafts and Potions_, closing the lid of the ink bottle before he sat up in the bed. Professor Sprout had made him promise to read all of his books before the term began and to work hard and be good. The latter was the reason why he had not given into any of his urges to make something horrible happen to the Dursleys. The Professor had also hugged him until he was sure that his bones would break and had tearfully told him that he looked just like his father except that he had his mother's eyes. Oh, and the glasses. His father had worn glasses, apparently. He in turn, had made her promise that she would introduce him to Nymphodora Tonks when he went to school. She had said yes but had ruefully admitted that she did not know Narcissa Malfoy well enough to write to her.

The Dursleys had taken a whole new approach of treating him. He might just as well be invisible, the way they acted that he did not exist and lived in the same house. It did not bother him in the least; once he went off to Hogwarts, things would be different.

His new owl, a present from Professor Sprout, was sitting in his cage, watching him. He had decided to call him Arcturus, a name he had taken from the Astronomy textbook because the midnight black colour of his feathers with the stark white flecks somehow reminded him of the night sky.

The grass snake, who still made a point of visiting him every now and then, had begged him to take her with him to Hogwarts. He had firmly said no, mostly because he was sure that snakes were not an accepted pet and because he did not see how he could smuggle in a four feet snake with him without anyone noticing. He had also decided against introducing her to Arcturus, in case she tried to convert him into her dinner.

The said owl was looking at him and he could almost see the silent beseeching inside those bright yellow eyes.

He went up to the cage and opened it, letting Arcturus hop onto his hand, admiring how he tightened those sharp claws around his fingers without a single scratch.

"Bored?" Harry murmured.

He hooted.

He walked up to the window and saw that it was almost evening.

"Alright then," he made a move to open the door, chuckling because Arcturus was already spreading his wings, ready to take off. "Don't get into trouble and come back by morning," he admonished.

The affectionate nip was gentler than he expected and he watched as his new friend disappeared into a black dot into the distance.

"DINNER!" a voice yelled.

Harry rolled his eyes. Dudley was the exception and he certainly wasn't ignoring Harry. Harry wished he would, the idiot was constantly taking every change to yell and make a ruckus near his room.

The pure act of ignoring him took more energy than it was worth.

You're going to Hogwarts, he reminded himself. And it's going to be different.

He shivered as the words of the wandmaker echoed in his ears.

"_I suppose this means that we should expect great things from you…"_

He was going to do great things.

September couldn't arrive fast enough for him.

xxx

Uncle Vernon thought it was all an excellent joke that Harry was going to board a train that left from a platform that didn't exist.

"Platform Nine and Three Quarters," he had guffawed. "Last time I heard, they haven't built that platform yet." Catching the expression on Harry's face, he had muttered, "I have business in London and I can drop you off. You're on your own then, boy."

At Kings Cross Station, Harry wished that he had eyes at the back of his head as he broke into a sprint, heading for the solid metal ticket box between Platform 9 and Platform 10. He passed through without a hitch and stared in amazement at the scene in front of him.

It was as if he had walked into another world. The red train was exactly as Professor Sprout described and some people milled about in wizarding clothes. A few people were dressed in what they must have thought were muggle clothing, only the fashion was a few centuries off. One man in particular stood out particular from the crowd as he was wearing a woman's nightgown.

Harry was wondering how he would transfer his trunk and Arcturus's cage to the train without when an older and very friendly looking boy noticed him.

He was already dressed in school robes and Harry saw a shiny badge that read 'Prefect' pinned onto his school robes.

"Hello there," he walked up. "Need some help?"

"Can you help me load these?"

"Sure, mate." He turned over his head. "Oiy, Tamsin!"

Another boy with an even shinier badge joined them. He looked older than the first one too.

"What?"

"We need to load these," the younger Prefect gestured at Harry's belongings.

He seemed happy to comply and Arturus's cage was loaded first.

"Can I keep Arcturus with me?" he asked.

"What, your owl? Nah, he will be fine," the older Prefect grunted as he took hold of one end of the trunk. "Blimey, mate. What did you put in here, bricks?" he asked.

They hauled it in with difficulty.

Harry cocked his head. "It has school stuff, mostly," he replied. "And thank you," he added gratefully.

"Wait," the first Prefect peered at Harry's forehead. "Is that..?"

"Yes, it is a scar," Harry confirmed. "Harry Potter," he stuck out his hand.

The handshake was returned enthusiastically with several thumps on his back for good measure.

"Anthony Otterburn," the first Prefect introduced himself.

"Tamsin Applebee," the second one said jovially. "We're Hufflepuffs."

"So, what House do you think you will be in, mate?" Ottoburn asked.

"I am not sure. We will see though, won't we?" Harry returned. "I should probably get on the train now, though."

"Hey, we could help you find a compartment,"Ottoburn offered.

"No, that's okay," Harry smiled gratefully. "I'll be fine."

"No problem," Applebee waved a dismissive hand. "If you need us, we'll be in the front compartments reserved for prefects."

"Thanks. I will remember that."

xxx

His father was on principle, a man who liked to arrive on time, especially if it meant that he could dump his son at the place he was arriving at. It was not a surprise for Theodore when they arrived at Kings Cross Station earlier than most.

Even in the sparse crowds, Father was recognized by quite a lot of people who either ignored him or nodded at him as a way of greeting. They came to a still near the train and Father swished out his wand. Theodore stood dutifully at his side as he levitated the trunk and the cage of Snow, the owl that had once belonged to his mother.

The grasp on his shoulder was a rare show of affection and Theodore suddenly wanted to go back home and cocoon himself inside his room, safe in the knowledge that Father was there and that as distant as he was, he would keep him safe.

"Write to me once a week," Father said stiffly. That meant that he was not supposed to bother Father more than once a week.

"Yes, Father," he answered automatically.

"If you need money, let me know."

He nodded.

The grasp loosened and Father let go of him. "Good. Now go."

He started to walk towards the train when he heard his name.

"Theodore," Father called.

He turned, hoping that Father had something more to say.

"Write to me and let me know who else is in Slytherin with you."

He hid the disappointment under a mask perfected over years and nodded again, turning back to the train and boarding it, wondering what it would be like to have choices.

xxx

Harry wandered through the train, looking for a section that was empty. Judging by the strewn robes and assorted accessories, the first compartments he came across had obviously been occupied or reserved by the students who had arrived early.

He came across a section that was empty and on a whim, chose the second compartment.

He settled down quickly, wondering about how much worse it could get with all the attention. It was a nice change not to be ignored but having people gawking at his scar and admiring him for something that he couldn't even remember properly was slightly annoying. He sincerely hoped that the novelty would wear off soon and people would get used to having him around.

xxx

Few students were milling about on the train, though they made up for their numbers by being as loud as they could be. The shrieks from girls being reunited with their friends were bad enough without the whooping from the boys. Keen to get a compartment that was empty, Theodore hurried on, only to change his mind later when he caught sight of a familiar mop of straight dark hair sticking out in every direction possible.

Harry Potter was lounging in a compartment alone, looking for the entire world as if he had done this before and was bored with it on the whole.

Theodore was surprised to realize that he felt nervous at the thought of talking to Potter again. Granted, he had exchanged two sentences with him but that had been before Theodore had realized that the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't just a product of a fluke in the universe.

He softly rapped his knuckles on the glass section.

Potter looked up, familiarity dawning on his features and nodded.

Theodore walked in, and closed the door behind him silently.

He thought that Potter looked pleased to see him, but his pale face seemed emotionless except for those green eyes that seemed to take in everything.

"It's good to see you again," Potter said in greeting.

"I'm Theodore Nott," he extended his hand.

"Harry Potter," Potter shook his hand briefly before dropping it.

"Can I sit with you here?"

Potter gave a strained smile. "Alright," he said.

He started talking tentatively but Potter seemed wary of him and the conversations halted at times.

For all his fame and the hints of an exceptional future, Potter seemed modest. They gradually ebbed into a comfortable flow of conversation when Potter relaxed a bit. Every now and then, they would lapse into a comfortable silence and simply stare at the scenery rushing past them outside.

Theodore wished he had had met Potter occasionally while growing up instead of Draco Malfoy who never seemed to shut his mouth.

He kept his questions around safe topics like the books and the things they would see at Hogwarts. A few hours into the train ride, he was still debating asking Potter if he wanted to go to Gryffindor like his parents. It seemed to be an unwritten rule that they had to follow in the footsteps of their parents and family but Theodore, for the life of him, couldn't imagine Potter in Gryffindor. He just didn't fit into the description of the lions.

Potter seemed too appraising, too smart and most importantly, too careful.

He kept the question bottled up and watched as Potter tried to maintain his impassive face as word got around on the train that the Boy-Who-Lived was on his way to Hogwarts. The curious ones would catch a glimpse of Potter though the glass and then leave. A few bold ones even walked in to introduce themselves. Theodore had his fair share of gawking from the occasional Slytherins who turned up to see what the fuss was about. Some of them recognized him and they either nodded at him with approval or frowned at him reproachfully.

A certain platinum blonde was curious but it certainly wasn't boldness that drove him to walk in with his two bodyguards and introduce himself.

"I heard that Harry Potter was on the train. So it was true, then, wasn't it?" Malfoy drawled.

"It was," Potter tilted his head. "And you are?"

Malfoy seemed to puff up under the attention. "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He extended a hand.

Potter seemed genuinely pleased, a first as far as Theodore had seen. "Your mother is Narcissa Black, isn't she?"

"She was a Black but she's a Malfoy now, isn't she?" Malfoy looked puzzled, unsure of the direction that the conversation was heading.

Potter opened his mouth but the exchange was interrupted when a chubby boy opened the door. All three pairs of eyes fell on him and he seemed to tremble under the scrutiny.

"H-hi," he stammered. "Ha-have you seen a toad?"

"No we haven't," Malfoy said sharply. "And who brings a toad these days anyway?" he sneered. "They went out of fashion years ago."

He caught the flash of annoyance in his Potter's eyes. "Quit it," he snapped.

That was when Theodore realized that he wasn't the only one who recognized that commanding tone that seemed to come naturally to Potter. He had turned to the boy who was still standing on the threshold of their compartment.

"When did you last see your toad?" Potter asked more kindly.

The boy made a helpless gesture. "I- I don't remember, really. He was with me when I boarded the train."

Malfoy was glaring at the timid boy and Theodore decided to try and cool down the temperature inside. "What did you say your name was?" he asked.

He audibly gulped. "Neville. Neville Longbottom."

A pureblood from a family of blood traitors but all the same, he was a pureblood.

Malfoy seemed to have calmed down. "You're a pureblood, aren't you?" he drawled at Longbottom.

"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he jerked his thumb towards the two boys towering besides him. "And this is Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe here."

"Harry Potter," Potter's voice was the smoother and friendlier. He looked half annoyed and half amused at the instant worshipful look that Longbottom was giving him.

"I am Theodore Nott," he tried held out a hand and noted that the Longbottom was slightly damp.

This one was a nervous wreck and needed desperate help.

Potter gave him a pleased look.

"So," Theodore kept his voice pleasant enough. "Would you like us to help you look for the toad?"

"Or," Potter said slowly, "How about I take you to a Prefect and ask him to help you?"

The five of them attracted plenty of stares as they marched toward the front of the train.

"Where is your compartment anyway?" Potter asked Longbottom."

"I'm at-" Longbottom looked back frantically. "I'm at the back, really."

Potter raised an eyebrow at him and Theodore nodded. "Well, you can sit with us," Potter said casually.

Longbottom looked immensely grateful at this offer.

A red haired boy with horn rimmed glasses was marching towards them. "What is going on here?" he demanded.

Malfoy was already sneering and Longbottom was moving behind his newfound hero for protection. The said hero looked unfazed at the authoritative voice.

"Nothing," Potter raised an eyebrow. "I am actually looking for Applebee or Otterburn. We need some help."

"I am Percy Weasley," the older boy drew himself to his full height and threw out his chest. "And I am a Prefect."

Potter pointedly looked at the shiny Prefect badge pinned to his robe. "I can see that," he said lazily.

Malfoy was sniggering and Weasley frowned. "I am a Prefect and I can help you-"

They heard something explode in the distance and Longbottom muffled a scream as yells erupted from the nearby compartments. The door slid open and an older dark haired boy with an identical Prefect badge pinned to his robe stepped in.

"Weasley, it's your brothers again. Go deal with it."

Weasley looked furious. "Those two-"" He turned on his heels.

The Prefect gave him a pitying look. "They singed off the hair from two Slytherins. It's not going to be pretty." He watched as Weasley marched off and turned to Potter who was smiling faintly at him.

"Hey, Harry. What are you doing here?" His smile was wider.

Potter jerked his head towards the boy cowering behind him. "Neville here lost his toad."

Theodore thought that Longbottom muttered something that sounded like Trevor.

The Prefect took out his wand with an exaggerated flourish. "Alrighty then. Let's find him, shall we?"

xxx

Draco had left them with Crabbe and Goyle but only after advising Harry to hang out with the 'right sort' of people.

Neville moved his things to their compartment and they stretched out.

Their new companion was painfully shy and Harry was glad the Theodore was actively trying to engage him in conversation. It was when Neville admitted that he been dropped from a window on the second floor by his Uncle who wanted to see his nephew do some accidental magic when Harry realized that Uncle Vernon not being a wizard had its perks.

Theodore carefully said that he had been displaying accidental magic ever since he could remember and Harry reiterated his experience in vague words.

A lady with a trolley full of sweets arrived soon and Harry got up to inspect the contents. He had never been enthusiastic about sweets but he was hungry and Neville's eyes had lit up at the sight of the trolley.

Happy to get a chance to treat someone to something, he started to take off plenty of everything off the cart, aided by Neville.

Theodore was rummaging through his pockets and Harry turned.

"It's okay. I'll pay."

"I do have money here, somewhere," he looked faintly embarrassed. "Father did give me plenty."

"It's alright," Harry took out his pouch of money that he had inside his jeans.

"Gran gave me money too," Neville looked miserable. "I can't remember-"

"My treat," Harry said firmly, dumping several fat galleons onto the outstretched palm of the lady.

They spread out the contents and Harry soon discovered that like Theodore, he only liked the Chocolate Frogs.

"So, what house do you think you will be in?" Neville spoke his longest sentence since they had met.

Harry paused, aware that Theodore was staring at him intently.

"I will go along with what the Sorting Hat says," he gave a small shrug.

"I have to get into Gryffindor," Neville looked tearful at the thought. "I think that I will be lucky to be sorted into _any_ house. Even Hufflepuff."

Harry immediately thought of Professor Sprout and the two Hufflepuff prefects he had met. "Hufflepuff is a great house," he said defensively.

That seemed to surprise Neville. "You think so?"

"Of course I do," Harry replied.

"Slytherin for me," Theodore gave the chubby boy a look that said that he understood his dilemma.

They continued their talk, skimming through various topics.

When Harry had admitted that he had grown up with muggle relatives, Neville tried to console him.

"You will learn soon enough." He assured Harry. "Besides," he added as an afterthought, "There is no way anyone could do worse than me."

Theodore looked a bit pale at the thought of growing up with muggles but he seemed to know quite a bit more than Neville about magic.

"Very few magical families actually teach their children before they go to school," he said. "So in all honestly, you could catch up quite easily."

It was getting darker outside and the train seemed to be slowing down.

"Think we're already here?" Neville got up and pressed his face to the windows.

"We must be near Hogwarts." Theodore got up and followed suit.

Harry stayed behind them. The sky overhead was purple and they could make out mountains and forests spread out in front of them.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time." A voice echoed through the train. "Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to school separately."

"We should change," Theodore whispered. His normally impassive pale blue eyes were dancing with excitement.

They fumbled with their long black robes or more accurately. Theodore helped Harry first who was new to the heavy and large clothing. Neville had needed up fastening his cloak under his left ear and Theodore helped him set it right.

The train finally stopped and they walked out into the crowded corridor where the children were jostling and shoving each other.

They finally made it onto a tiny and dark platform. The night air was cold and brushed against their exposed faces. Neville sniffed and burrowed his face deeper into his cloak.

A large lamp was making its way over to them and it was only when a voice started to call out "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" when Harry realized that holding it was a giant of man with beady black eyes. He seemed friendly and beamed at the terrified crowd of the new students. "Any more first' years? Alright then. Follow me! Mind yer' step!"

Slipping and clutching onto each other for support, they walked down a steep slope that was too narrow and too slippery for comfort.

Harry was too busy trying to make sure that he did not stumble to notice that the path had opened up. A loud 'Ooooh' was heard and he looked up.

They were standing at the edge of a wide lake with pitch black water. On the other side, perched on top of a mountain with countless windows glistening under the starry sky and with its many towers and turrets was unmistakably Hogwarts.

It looked simply magnificent.

The large man pointed towards a fleet of boats sitting in the water by the shore. "No more'n four to a boat!" he called.

Harry, Neville and Theodore got a boat for themselves.

"Everyone in?" the man called. "Right then – FORWARD"

The boats lurched forward and they stayed silent, watching the castle with amazement.

xxx

Harry stared at the now limp Sorting Hat. The thing looked old and dusty.

"That thing looks older than Merlin himself," Theodore whispered. Harry nodded, his mind wandering elsewhere.

They were all nervous, even Theodore, who was trying to distract himself by talking more than usual. Next to him, Neville looked ready to bolt for the door and run away.

"When I call your name," Professor McGonagall called, " you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

"Abott, Hannah!"

A chubby girl with blonde pigtails walked forward and sat down.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat called.

Harry clapped with the others and tried to calm his nerves. All he had to do was put on a hat. No big deal.

His legs that were growing weaker by the second seemed to disagree.

More names were called out and Harry waited patiently for his turn.

"Granger, Hermione!"

A rather bushy haired girl who had been reciting spells and facts non-stop under her breath since they had stepped into Hogwarts walked forward. She had claimed to have memorized all of their textbooks, a feat that Harry would have normally admired but there was an air of bossiness around her that had made him instantly dislike her.

She got into Gryffindor and looked infinitely pleased about it.

"Longbototm, Neville!"

Harry and Theodore hurriedly whispered words of encouragement as he stumbled forward nervously.

The hat fell over his eyes and they waited. And waited.

The time stretched into several long minutes and some students started muttering. Theodore looked worried. "Do you think-"he leaned in.

The sorting hat had reached a decision and the loud yell of "HUFFLEPUFF brought a large round of applause from the welcoming badgers. Harry and Theodore joined in. "His family might disinherit him for this," Theodore whispered into his ear.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Honestly, Harry wanted to like Draco and he did, to a certain extent (he certainly seemed better than Dudley) but he was unbelievably arrogant and he had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the strutting.

He was sorted into Slytherin before he the hat had been properly put on his head.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "The hat must have seen that glaring hair and decided-"

"Nott, Theodore!"

"Good luck," Harry whispered.

Theodore looked slightly apprehensive as he sat down. Everyone in the hall had to wait only a few moments before it yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"

A few more students breezed their way through the sorting and _finally_, it was his turn.

"Potter, Harry!"

The loud whispers rippled through the Great Hall.

"Did she say Potter?"

"Harry Potter? _The _Harry Potter?

He kept his expression neutral despite the growing anticipation. 'Trust the hat,' Professor Sprout had urged.

Everyone was staring at him and it was a relief when the hat fell over his eyes, blocking the sea of curious faces from his sight.

_Well, isn't this a nice surprise. Plenty of courage and a brilliant mind too._

**Thank you.**

_You're welcome. There's talent too, lots of it. And a great thirst to prove yourself. I have sorted a boy like you before. Great memory, I tell you. But where to put you? _

**Wherever is best for me. Isn't that what you decide?**

The hat actually chuckled.

_What I decide? You would be surprised, Mr. Potter. I know where is best for each one of you but then, I mostly have you younglings thinking they know their own heads. You seem to be an exception. Well, I get children like you too._

**I'll go wherever you put me. Just choose what is best for me.**

_The best, hmmm? You could be great, you know. It's all here in your head. And have no doubt, they will help you on the way to greatness._

**Who?**

_Why, that would be the ones in... __**SLYTHERIN!**_

The hat was yanked off his head and he stared at the shocked faces staring at him as if they were seeing him for the first time.

His legs felt like jelly but he walked with steady steps, his head held high. He was going to be _great_ and he had no doubt about that.

xxx

Theodore was among the first to clap for Potter and he wondered if his fellow housemates would have been as surprised if they knew what he knew. The Slytherins seemed to recover fast enough though and it was as if they had pulled on a collective mask, hiding the shock underneath expressionless faces and breaking the deafening silence with polite applause.

He was surprised that he felt so pleased when Potter sat down next to him instead of Malfoy. The blonde didn't seem to notice but he did break off his sneering at the Gryffindors long enough to congratulate Potter.

"This is the best house, you know," he informed pompously.

Potter looked thoughtful. "The best, hmm?"

"I knew you would be in Slytherin."

The words had left his mouth before he could stop them and he was grateful that Malfoy didn't catch them.

"Really?" Harry turned slightly and raised an eyebrow. "And how did you know that?"

His mind went back to the scene first encounter with Potter. He had vaguely asked his father about wands and he had muttered something about wands choosing rightful masters. He wondered how many people had walked in there to get a wand and all these years, it had lain there, waiting for its rightful master.

Potter could be like the Dark Lord; he could have the same power and glory.

Those disconcertingly bright green eyes were staring at him expectantly and Theodore chose his next words carefully. "Because I can't imagine you in any other House."

The knowing smile was accompanied with a slight shrug. "The hat said that Slytherin is the best house for me," he said.

Theodore had a guess about what else the hat had told Potter.

xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

xxx

He came to a halt at the gargoyle guarding door and took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves.

Harry Potter was in Slytherin. James Potter must be rolling in his grave right now and under any other circumstance, the thought would have amused him to no end. The current situation was not even remotely funny, not when he would have to take care of the brat. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered the password, a name of another disgusting muggle sweet that the Headmaster ate like a kid let loose in a candy store.

The man was sitting in his chair behind the desk, gently stroking Fawkes.

"Ah, Severus," he stood up. "My boy, I know that you have-"

"I know that _this_," he interrupted curtly, "is about Potter."

Dumbledore sighed as he sat back down, gesturing for Severus to take the seat across him which he did.

"And how do you feel about it?"

What was this, a therapy session for him? How did the Headmaster _think_ that he felt?

He chose avoided the question.

"I can assure you," he said stiffly, "that Potter will not be treated any differently, regardless of his fame."

"I am sure you wouldn't, my boy," Dumbledore intertwined his hands. "Minerva was very disappointed. She was hoping that Harry would be in her house like his parents. James would have wanted Harry to be a Gryffindor."

"Really?" he felt his lips curl into a sneer. "And what about Lily? Do you think she would have cared which house her son is in?"

"Of course not. I'm sure that it would not have mattered. She would have loved him all the same," Dumbledore tried to placate him. "I wanted to ask you, my boy, to keep an eye on our Harry."

_Our_ Harry?

"Like I said," he tried to keep the scowl off his face. "He will be treated like any other Slytherin."

"He seems to be on friendly terms with young Nott and Malfoy."

So that was what this was about, wasn't it? Dumbledore was afraid that his Golden Boy would hang around with too many future Death Eaters?

"They are eleven years old," he gritted his teeth. "I hardly think that they will be discussing the merits between joining the Dark Lord and starting up their own faction."

_He_ certainly hadn't been discussing that at their age.

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a brief moment, looking as if the entire weight of the world was resting on his shoulders and Severus was suddenly reminded of how old the Headmaster truly was.

"Do you know," his voice was soft, "that a long time ago, Garrick asked me to provide a feather from Fawkes."

"Am I correct in assuming that you are referring to Ollivander?"

"Yes."

Severus held his breath, listening intently but the Headmaster had paused. "And?" he prompted.

"Fawkes gave him two feathers. Out of curiosity, I asked him Garrick to let me know about who got matched to the wands." Dumbledore lifted his head to meet his obsidian eyes. "The first wand was bought in 1938 by a boy. The brother wand had laid there in the shop, unmatched and unclaimed for years until now. I received a letter from Garrick a few weeks ago. Apparently, the second wand chose Harry."

He had a suspicion about where this was heading but he wanted to hear the Headmaster say the words. "So they are brother wands," he spoke. "And the first wand was bought by..?"

"It cannot be a coincidence, can it?" Dumbledore murmured. "Until Harry, no one else has survived the killing curse. And until him, no one else had ever claimed the brother wand of Voldemort."

Severus wished it was a coincidence. Potter seemed so young, so innocent and…harmless.

He felt a shiver run down his spine in spite of the warmth inside the room.

"My boy, I know that you are defensive about Slytherin, as you well should be."

That remark did not even deign a reply.

"Ambition is a fine trait but unchecked, it can lead to many mistakes. Mistakes that you can never rectify. Do keep an eye on Harry and guide him." Dumbledore looked straight into his eyes. "She would have."

How dare he?

"The First Years are waiting for me," he gritted his teeth. "Now, if that is all…"

Those blue eyes were lit with triumph at a battle won. "Of course, my boy. Do remember what I just said."

xxx

The Slytherin dungeons were a dizzying maze of seemingly identical corridors, stairs that seemed to have been built whenever there seemed to be a need for one and countless doors and turns that they were told to ignore because they seemed to lead nowhere.

Harry doubted that Salazar Slytherin, who had built most of the structure of the dungeons, would have gone around adding doors and openings just for the heck of it.

The stone floors were dry but the polished surface glistened in the light thrown by the candles and the temperature dropped significantly inside the place. It was a testament to the coldness inside the place that their breaths came out as wisps of thin smoke, clouding the air in front of them as they walked.

They marched through the corridors; the First Years huddled as close together as they could without being pressed against each other.

The Prefect leading them was a brown haired and pretty fifth year who had introduced herself as Gemma Farley and she came to a stop in front of a stone wall.

"This," Farley gestured, "is the entrance to the common room. The password is changed every fortnight and will be posted on the noticeboard inside. The current password is '_superior'_."

The wall swung open and he almost tripped over Goyle as they swept in.

"You will wait here until Professor Snape arrives. He will have a few words to say to you before we take you to your dorms." She took a chair, leaving them all standing while the rest of the students hung around, the older students lounging in chairs and talking. A few left, presumably for bed.

xxx

In all his years as the Head of Slytherin, he had never felt this unsure before. Hogwarts had been his escape from a drinking and abusive father and a mother whom he had to take care of more than she took care of him. Slytherin, as cold and unforgiving as it was, had been his first and only true home.

He was certainly proud of his house. Granted, if he could do it all over again, there were a lot of things that he would do differently but he would still choose to be in Slytherin if he had to live a million lives over again. It would always be his choice for a house in Hogwarts.

Severus knew for a fact that the Sorting Hat did give choices and he knew that Harry Potter had made his choice. He had chosen Slytherin.

He wished things had turned out differently. Had Potter gone to Gryffindor, he could have gone along with the glorious plans to make the brat as miserable as his bloody father had made him when they were students. James Potter could be a hero for the entire world for all he cared; Severus knew that man for what he had been; a bullying, self-important and cruel man that he still loathed with every fibre of his being.

Who was to say that Harry Potter was any different? He was the son of James bloody Potter.

_And mine, Sev._

He blinked rapidly, waving away the sudden moisture. The boy had her eyes. He had met them during the Feast when the boy had glanced at the teachers with a haughty looking Malfoy pointing his finger and Nott muttering in his ears.

Under that same shock of dark hair that he shared with his father, Harry Potter looked at the world through his mother's beautiful eyes. He almost wished the brat had to wear glasses like his prat of a father; that would make it harder for him to notice the bright green orbs.

He wondered how things would have been different if he was the one who was dead and Lily was the one alive, staring at a child that was his. She would have done her best by the child. He just knew that she would have.

Did Lily see him right now? Did she know that he had pledged his life to protect her son for her because he wanted her forgiveness?

Would she forgive him easier if he watched over the boy and cared for him? She would know that it was hard, close to impossible for him. But he could try. He could prove that he was a better man than James Potter.

_Watch me, Lily._

xxx

Harry craned his neck, taking in the details. The room was circular and the whole place was lit by green lamps hanging from the ceiling. Pillars stood in two concentric circles and they arched gracefully at the top before merging into the ceiling. Lush leather sofas were lined up in the centre of the room and the space around them was filled with lots of low backed chairs arranged around small tables. Tapestries featuring medieval looking people hung from the walls and below them, backed evenly against the walls were dark wooden cupboards crammed with books and occasionally skulls. The luminescent light thrown off from the lamps bathed the whole place in a green glow and the parts of the stone walls that were not hidden under tapestries and cupboards shared the mirroring dance of meshed shadows of the occupants with the hangings. At the far end and directly in front of them was a fireplace that stretched halfway up into the walls, glowing with a bright green fire.

He wondered if the other common rooms looked half as grand as this.

Theodore nudged him and he turned.

"Do you think those are real skulls?" he whispered.

He leaned in. "We will have to find out, won't we?" he whispered back.

They stayed close together, some of them nervously as the minutes stretched into half an hour. Some kids were muttering about tiredness but Harry was still too dazzled to notice the numbness creeping into his legs.

He was admiring the details in the backgrounds of the tapestries when the wall moved and it took him several seconds to realize that there was a hidden door next to one of the cupboards.

The dark haired professor whom Draco had pointed out as the Head of Slytherin and Potions Master stepped in. From a distance, he had looked stern.

Up close, it was easier to study his harsh features. His face had an unnatural pallor to it. Greasy dark hair hung in curtains around his face and the long nose looked crooked as if it had been broken several times. His mouth was set in a grim line and adding his height and the jet black robes, he looked positively intimidating.

Harry decided that Professor McGonagall had nothing on this man.

"First of all," his deep voice was a bare whisper and yet it resounded inside the room, "let me congratulate you all on making it into the best house in Hogwarts. Slytherin is for the ambitious, the resourceful and the cunning and while you are here, you will display those qualities. You will also follow the rules which are there to ensure that you do not blindly go around losing points for this house and making general fools out of yourselves. Number one," he cast an eye over their curious faces. "Your ancestry or the wealth of your parents does not matter. It is your time to make your own mark and make your own choices. I will not treat you any differently regardless of where you came from."

Several students, most notably Draco, frowned at this.

"Number two," Professor Snape continued, "what happens inside these walls stay here. If you have any problems between yourselves, sort it out inside here. Outside and in front of other houses, you will show a united front and you will stand up for each other."

"Number three, the rules are meant to be followed. If you break them, you do it at your own risk. It is customary in Hogwarts that the students caught breaking the rules are dealt with by the respective Heads the House. If any of _you_ are caught, I will be hand you over to the mercy of the teacher who caught you. In addition to that, I will personally add to your punishment and I promise you, it will not be pleasant."

A few of the older kids were nodding as if they were confirming this and Harry wondered what the repercussions were like for those who got caught.

"I expect you all to be at the Great Hall for all meals and to be present in your classes on time. I will not tolerate any of you losing points for this house with your dawdling." His dark eyes met Harry's for a brief moment. "If you have any problems that you cannot handle alone, talk to a Prefect or come directly to me."

Professor Snape glanced at the Prefects who were standing in a line. "Hand them their timetables and escort them to their dormitories."

He turned on his heels and left, the black robes bellowing behind him.

Harry was thoroughly impressed.

xxx

Two doors on either side of the fireplace led to the dormitories with the girls going to the left and the boys to the right. Winding staircases led down further into the dungeons and they were told that the dorms were located under the Great Lake. The temperature dropped as they went down deeper into the dungeons and the landing forked off into a long corridor. They took the second door they came across.

"Your dormitory," the Prefect stepped in first. "Unlike some houses, we do not change dormitories every year. You will be sleeping here, in the same bed, for the next seven years. In fact, let me save you a lot of trouble and tell you this. Whining about not having your own room will not change a tradition that has been here for centuries. Get used to it."

Harry was sure that he would not whine to anyone; this dorm was more pleasant than any room in Number 4, Privet Drive.

The dormitory looked similar to the common room in that it had the same polished stone walls and the green theme. The walls were decorated with Slytherin crests and ancient four-posters with green silk hangings were lined up in two rows against the walls. Windows were spaced out evenly above their beds and they could hear the faint sound of the lake water lapping against the glass. The greenish tinge from the lake water was further enhanced by the green light thrown off from the silver lanterns hanging from the ceilings.

"Your trunks are next to your respective beds. Stealing each other's things is not allowed and will be strictly dealt with," the Prefect continued. "Breakfast is available from six in the morning. Here," he held up several sheets of parchment, "are your timetables. During the first week, there will be Prefects escorting you to your classes and after that you will be on your own. Don't be late to your classes."

Harry was the first one to take a copy of the schedule and he gave a cursory glance over it, noting that their first class would be double Potions at nine with Gryffindors. They also had double Defence Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon, again, with the Gryffindors.

He felt disappointed that he wouldn't have Herbology until Wednesday. Perhaps he could visit Professor Sprout sometime before that? She had promised to introduce him to Nymphodora after all.

The other boys were busy inspecting their trunks and locating their beds. Judging by the unclaimed bed, Harry was at the end of the room, across Goyle and next to Theodore. Crabbe was the one next to Theodore and across him was Malfoy followed by Zabini who did not look happy with the arrangements.

"Can we swap beds?" Zabini asked loudly.

"Yes, but you have to inform a Prefect," the Prefect said.

"You're a prefect, aren't you?" Zabini folded his arms.

"Of course I am," he snapped.

"Then I am informing you that I am swapping beds with Crabbe there."

"Hold on. What are you doing?" Draco cut in.

Zabini gestured at Crabbe and Goyle, both of them who seemed clueless. "They both snore and I know because I heard them on the train today. I am not sleeping next to Goyle. I want Crabbe's bed, that way I will be across Malfoy and a good distance away from the snoring," he explained.

"Oh, alright," the Prefect conceded.

"But then won't he be snoring next to me?" Draco complained.

"Try the Silencing Charm," the Prefect suggested.

"That's not fair! I am going to tell Father-"

"Alright then. You," the Prefect pointed to Zabini. "Try the Silencing Charm. No swapping beds."

"Can I swap with Crabbe?" Draco asked hopefully.

The Prefect glared at him.

xxx

_She sat primly on the chair, her back held straight and her hands clasped on her lap. Her mother could be heard in the next room, giving last minute instructions to one of the house elves. A few sharp words were heard, followed by a loud shriek and she winced, knowing full well that the little creature had done something wrong._

_The door swung open and her mother walked in._

"_Shall we go to the dining room then?" Mother was addressing Aunt Cassiopeia who was poring over a large tome that Andy had once told her was written on human skin. Knowing her sister, it was either a joke or it was completely true. The pages certainly looked old and wrinkled skin, a sight that she was carefully keeping her eyes averted from._

_Aunt Cassiopeia looked up, annoyed at being disturbed. "Dorea," she closed the book, "is not here yet."_

_Mother pursed her lips, obviously displeased. "She is certainly taking her time," she said stiffly. "Dinner was supposed to start at-"_

"_I do not care," Aunt Cassiopeia's voice was as cold as ice, "what time dinner was supposed to start."_

_The tension in the air crackled with unsaid words and Cissy wished Aunt Cassiopeia had not made her sit in the study with her while her two sisters got to go with Aunt Irma until dinner started._

"_I will ask Kreacher to wait until Dorea arrives," her mother turned to leave._

"_Druella," the sharp voice was commanding. "Ask Kreacher to make sure that there is a place set for Charles this time. I will take matters into my own hands if the mistake is repeated again."_

_Her mother seemed offended. "That was a decision made by Walburga. All the same, to have a blood traitor sit at our table-"_

_Aunt Cassiopeia looked calm as ever and her voice was low but the edge to it conveyed her wrath all too well. "He is married to Dorea and she is a daughter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black," she turned up her chin. "I expect her and her husband to be treated as it befits them while they visit the home of her ancestral family."_

_She was glad that Mother wisely left without another word. Personally, she agreed with Aunt Cassiopeia. She liked Aunt Dorea; she was much nicer and a lot more fun. Her duels with Aunt Walburga were the funniest and she especially liked it when Aunt Dorea used the tickling charm on the more serious and severe woman._

_It would be another boring fifteen minutes before when Kreacher appeared, announcing that all members were present and dinner would start shortly._

_Aunt Cassiopeia gestured at her to follow her and she did._

_The dining table was laden with a feast and several members of the family were already seated. Uncle Pollux was in deep conversation with her Father who looked up to give her a smile that she returned widely. Aunt Irma was fussing over the layout of the utensils with Mother. It was strange that Bella and Andy were nowhere to be seen but Cissy was not interested in her sisters right now._

_She walked over to Aunt Walburga who was inspecting a plate of roasted potatoes._

"_Where is Sirius?" she asked._

_She puckered her brows, trying to recall where her five month old son was. "With Marius, I believe. Or Alphard."_

"_He is with Alphard," a loud voice called jovially from a corner. Narcissa stiffened a giggle as Aunt Walburga's face darkened._

"_Do try to observe some manners tonight, Marius," the warning was from Aunt Cassiopeia who had taken the seat next to Uncle Pollux. "And where is Dorea? This dinner is supposed to be in honour of her and her son, if you have forgotten." The biting remark was aimed at Mother and Cissy quickly moved towards Uncle Marius._

_Mother clearly was fuming. "Kreacher said-"_

_The elf in discussion appeared at that moment, his face the very picture of long drawn suffering. "Announcing Lord and Lady Potter and their son, young master James Potter," he croaked._

_The elf disappeared as quickly as he had materialized and Aunt Dorea walked in, carrying a bundle in her arms and beaming at everyone. That must be her cousin James who was had just turned two weeks old that she was holding._

_Uncle Charles did not look half as enthusiastic as his wife and no one was surprised when he made a beeline for Uncle Marius, one of the few members of the Black family he actually got along with._

"_Salazar, is that-?" Aunt Irma walked over, peering at the James. "Oh, Dorea, he is beautiful!" she gushed._

"_He is, isn't he?" she said proudly. She looked up at Aunt Cassiopeia who had slowly made her way over and was staring at the baby thoughtfully._

_The resemblance between the two sisters was striking and there were times when they had been mistaken for twins. While Aunt Dorea was five years younger, her newfound motherhood brightened up her face and the dark haired beauty looked younger than Cissy remembered._

_Aunt Dorea held out the baby wrapped in a white blanket with the Black and Potter crests embroidered into the fabric with painstaking details._

_No one missed the tender love in her eyes as Aunt Cassiopeia, who was never fond of babies, took James and held him awkwardly. Grey eyes met and the sisters shared a triumphant smile and whispers of shared memories._

_Aunt Dorea stroked the forehead little James. "Toujours Pur", she said proudly._

xxx

Narcissa rolled up the letter, smiling softy. Draco was in Slytherin, as expected. At least, as was expected from Lucius. He would be pleased about it. She personally did not care; it would never matter to her which house her little dragon ended up in.

Harry Potter was in Slytherin too. Well, that must have been quite the surprise for Dumbledore, not to mention McGonagall and everyone else who had been expecting their hero to be a Gryffindor as all heroes supposedly were.

They really should not be shocked. After all, the paternal grandmother of the Boy-Who-Lived had been a daughter of the House of Black and she had been a Slytherin, a model one at that. For all her stubbornness and marriage to Charles Potter, a muggle rights supporter, Aunt Dorea had always been proud of her ancestry. _Toujours Pur_, she would say.

Always pure. Narcissa had wondered if James Potter would have gone ahead and married Lily Evans had Aunt Dorea been alive. He probably would have, especially when Charles Potter would have supported the decision. Even then, Aunt Dorea wouldn't have approved, Narcissa was sure of that.

But the blood of the Black family was strong and it ran in the veins of Harry. He might a Potter by name but as godson to the last male of the family, he did have a claim over the family, just like her own son did as the child of a daughter of the Black family. Harry and Draco would be the ones to carry the prestige of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

She took out a fresh sheet of parchment and uncapped the ink bottle. Draco needed to know how important it was to maintain a good friendship with his distant cousin.

xxx

* * *

A/N: I revised the chapters and added some bits because I have too much time. Any mistakes are still mine, constructive criticism is welcome and I would love it if you could post a review to let me know what you think. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

xxx

He had noticed Arcturus in the swarm of owls even before he had swooped down towards the Slytherin table followed by a smaller snowy white owl.

Judging by the expectant look on Theodore's face, it belonged to him.

Arcturus dove down with dizzying speed and letting out an ear piercing hoot, wrapped his talons around his wrist painfully. Harry winced, knowing full well that the tight grip would leave marks.

The snowy white owl was silent and a lot more graceful as it settled down on Theodore's knuckle.

"Hello, Theia," he held up a piece of bacon that she took daintily. He turned, looking into Harry's eyes and there was something in there that he couldn't quite recognize. "She was once my mother's."

He hesitated for a few seconds, unsure of what to say before settling for, "well, she is pretty."

Arcturus angrily ruffled his feathers, obviously unhappy with the lack of attention.

"This jealous one here is Arcturus." Harry said airily.

Arcturus, who didn't have any letters to deliver, gave Theia a smug look as Theodore started to tie a letter he had written earlier to her leg. "Take it to Father," he murmured.

She hooted. A gentle nip on his finger and she flew off.

Theodore turned and held out his hand to Arcturus who broke off eyeing the bacon to glare at the dirty blonde haired boy.

Harry rolled his eyes and stroked the black feathers. "Don't mind him." He held out a few pieces of bacon that was devoured in few quick dips. "Go," he whispered. "I will see you later."

His parting nip was gentler than his entrance and Harry watched as he made his way out.

Theodore had turned around and something had obviously caught his attention. "He is eating like this is the meal that he will ever have," he remarked.

"Who?" Harry turned sideways as well.

"Weasley."

Harry followed his gaze and true enough, the freckled boy with his flaming red hair was scoffing down at a speed that made Dudley look slow.

They continued to stare at Weasley with amazement and neither of them noticed the tawny owl until they heard the crash. They both jumped out of their chairs at the crash. Theodore's plate which had held his breakfast a moment ago had been flipped over. The pitcher of pumpkin juice next to it had been knocked over and the contents were making its way to the edge of the table.

"What the-" Harry reached for the napkin.

"Stupid owl," Theodore was muttering. "Sorry about that."

"Is that for you?" Harry pointed to now damp paper dangling from the tawny owl's leg while using his napkin to soak up the juice at the edge of the table.

Some students were staring at them.

"Yeah. That's the _Daily Prophet_," Theodore took out a few coins. "Here," he stuffed them into the pouch attached to the leg of the unapologetic owl. "You bastard," he added to the owl. It hooted angrily and took off.

They moved their chairs before they took their seats again, careful to steer clear away from the mess on the table and the wet floor under them.

"One would think that you like your breakfast on the floor," a familiar voice drawled from above.

Harry did not need to look up to see who it was. "Good morning to you too, Draco."

The blonde and his pals took the seats across them. "I am waiting for my presents," Draco looked up expectantly. The horde had thinned out but owls were continuing to arrive; delivering packages and letters but none of them had made its way to Draco yet.

Theodore stopped the fork midway to his mouth. "How are your parents so sure that you're in Slytherin? The letter wouldn't have reached them yet."

That smug look just begged someone to punch him in the face. "I sent the letter last night."

"And how did you manage to do that?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Well," Draco started to pile his plate with toast and eggs. "I wrote the letter last week when I packed my things."

"You wrote the letter last week?" Theodore's voice was disbelieving.

"Of course. It wasn't that hard." He sat up straight in his chair. "Dear Mother," he recited solemnly. "I just got into Slytherin. Hogwarts is great but I still prefer the Malfoy Manor. I have to wake up early tomorrow for classes. I will write to you later. Please send my respect and affection to Father. Love, your son, Draco."

He looked at them. "Of course, I put down the date as yesterday's date."

"That is pretty smart," Harry said admiringly.

"It is always good to be prepared," Draco bit into his toast. "My father says so. It cost me two galleons to get someone to take it to the owlery last night." He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "Where are you going after breakfast? We are going to check out the Quidditch pitch. Classes don't start until nine."

"We know that," Harry poured a second helping of pumpkin juice. "I am going to the library."

"What about you?" Draco raised an eyebrow at Theodore.

"Library."

The blonde frowned. "I didn't know that you like books."

"Well, now you do."

xxx

In all honesty, Theodore did like books, but not as much as Potter seemed to like them. The dark haired boy was wandering between the shelves looking like his Christmas presents had arrived early.

The gated area of the library caught his attention and he sidled closer to that end and he followed, both of them reading the large sign above.

Restricted Section.

The burning hunger in Potter's eyes was too bright to miss.

"You will need a teacher's pass to go in there," Theodore murmured.

"Because?"

"Those are books that Hogwarts thinks should be regulated. Father once told me that Slytherin and Ravenclaw each have a separate collection like that."

"Think we can get some of the books in Slytherin?" Potter asked hopefully.

"It costs money though," he turned back to see Madam Pince pause in her task of sorting through a pile of books.

"I do have money."

"Good. You will need it for a lot of different things."

"I wonder that those-" Potter took another step closer.

Madam Pince was watching them closely now, her eyes narrowing in warning and he grabbed Potter's elbow, steering him away. "Potter, come on."

Green eyes looked at him with surprise. "Harry," he returned evenly. "You should call me Harry."

"Alright, Harry," the name sounded a bit foreign coming from his mouth. "Let's start with a book that you are actually allowed to read, shall we?"

Disappointment marked his face and after throwing another longing look at the Restricted Section, he moved away.

When Harry later decided to borrow three books, the maximum a first year was allowed to borrow at a single time, Theodore realized that if he wanted to hang out with Potter, he would have to get used to spending a lot of time in the library.

xxx

The Potions class was in the dungeons and it was clear that the Gryffindors were uncomfortable inside the cold room. They had taken the benches closest to the door, doubtless to flee as fast as they could and as soon they could.

Harry and Theodore took the front row on the other end and waited as more students filed in, talking in low voices. The Slytherins looked eager to see if their Head of House lived up to his reputation. The Gryffindors on the other hand, had started to notice the pickled animals floating in jars lined up on the shelves. The sight visibly made them downright miserable.

At exactly nine, a tall figure swooped in through the door and it was as if everyone had stopped breathing inside the room.

Professor Snape did not waste time, instead opening up a parchment and rook the roll call, calling out their names in a monotonous voice. His expression did not change until he marked off Zabini's name with a flourish, setting down quill and walking to the front centre of the room.

"You are here," his voice qualified barely above a whisper, "to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making."

Harry thought that Professor Snape certainly knew the art of keeping the class silent without much effort. "As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry noticed Granger at the edge of her seat, a determined look on her face. She seemed desperate to prove that she was not a dunderhead.

"Who can tell me," Professor Snape swept his endless black eyes over their faces, "what I would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Granger's hand immediately shot up into the air.

Harry, who hadn't memorized the entire book like Granger, had no idea what the answer was but it was a powerful sleeping potion; he remembered that much.

Those dark tunnel like eyes were roving among the Slytherin faces that unlike the bewildered Gryffindors, looked impassive. Crabbe and Goyle were the only exceptions; they were both staring at their Head of House as if he was speaking another language.

With no choice of one his own to call upon, Professor Snape turned to Granger. "Yes?" he spat out.

"Draught of the Living Dead, sir," she said politely.

He nodded curtly but kept his eyes on the side where the Slytherins sat. "And where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

Granger's hand was immediately in the air and because Harry knew the answer to this one, he followed suit. Professor Snape nodded at him before he had managed to get his elbows off the desk.

"Stomach of a goat, sir," he felt pleased at the admiring looks from his fellow Slytherins.

"Tell me Potter, what is the difference between monkswood and wolfsbane?"

He froze inside.

He had read about it in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, but as far as he could recall, the textbook had simply mentioned that it was the same thing.

Perhaps there was something else?

The expectant looks from the rest of his housemates was disconcerting. Granger must obviously know the difference; her arm looked in danger of being disconnected from her body.

"According to _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi,_" he tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice, "they are the same thing, sir."

Those tunnel like eyes stared at him with an expression he couldn't discern. "Granger," Professor Snape said suddenly. "What do you think?"

She looked happy that she had been called upon. "Well, Harry is correct, sir." Her arms were finally on the table and lying still. "And it also goes by the name of aconite."

Harry felt relieved, albeit a bit embarrassed. Of course it had been a trick question. How could he have not realized that?

"Now, if I ask you to divide the ingredients used in Potions into two broad categories, how would you go about it?"

The only two people who did not look perplexed at the question were him and Granger. Harry, because he was frantically recalling what he could from the textbook at record speed and Granger because she was frowning with confusion. "But Professor," she raised her hand. "The textbook says-"

"Granger, I am aware," Professor Snape cut in coldly, "of what the textbook says. I am asking you to use your brain to think for yourself, a feat I am starting to highly doubt that you are capable of."

A lot of Slytherins sniggered and Granger looked hurt.

The silence stretched and Harry closed his eyes to shut out the looks from the some Slytherins.

Two categories. Well, to be in the same category, things would have to have similar characteristics. The potion ingredients always varied except a few that invariably turned up in several potions.

It clicked all at once.

That was the first category. The ingredients that were in more than just a few potions.

_Stable. Preservation. Mitigate._

Those were the words that often came up in the explanations associated with the common ingredients. Often being the key word. But then there were other times when they came up as more important parts of the potion…among the more potent ingredients that were the real reason behind the effects and features of the distinctive potion. After all, ingredients could change properties depending on their state, couldn't they?

It was confusing but it made perfect sense.

He raised a tentative hand, aware that all eyes were immediately on him. "I think, Professor," he spoke with a confidence that he did not feel, "that I would categorize them into the- the base ingredients. As in some ingredients are responsible for the stability and preservation of the concoction, amongst other things."

He caught the almost undetectable nod from Professor Snape and continued with regained confidence. "Then there are the other ingredients that are more potent and are actively responsible for the distinctive use of the exact potion. The base ingredients could also play a role in suppressing or magnifying the effects of these… more specific ingredients and mitigate side effects that may come with them."

He realized something else as well. "Of course," he added hurriedly, "I think that based on the context, a base ingredient in one potion could act as a distinctive ingredient in another potion. Ingredients could change their effects based on the state that they are in. So- so, any one ingredient could act both ways."

"Correct."

The smattering applause was from a couple of Slytherins and Granger, who was blissfully unaware of the glares aimed at her back. She gave him an admiring glance and Harry returned it with a half-hearted smile. Professor Snape for his part looked as if he had accomplished his mission for the day.

"Ten points to Slytherin."

xxx

Theodore wondered if it was all a joke to Albus Dumbledore or if he had simply had no other candidates willing to teach DADA in Hogwarts, one of the oldest and most prestigious schools for magic.

The class started off with a roomful of eager faces and a nervously stuttering Professor Quirrell who seemed terrified at the prospect of teaching a bunch of eleven year olds. Ten minutes into the lesson, the eagerness had disappeared and they were exchanging raised eyebrows and shrugs. Next to him, Harry appeared crestfallen that DADA wasn't turning out to be as good as he had loudly hoped.

He tried to focus as Professor Quirrell stuttered about what he would be teaching them this year. Vampires seemed to be on top of the list and he had a suspicion that this was more of a personal preference. The entire room reeked of garlic and the professor had mumbled about his time in Albania and vampires more than a few times than was necessary.

"This place stinks," Harry complained in his ear. "It's making my head ache."

He nodded in agreement. The stench was overpowering and he was sure that it would cling to their clothes.

Halfway into the lesson, he gave up and simply let his eyes and ears concentrate on the marginally more interesting occupants in the stuffy room. A few Gryffindors in the back were doodling on parchments and one very brave soul amongst them had simply decided to take a nap.

Professor Quirrell continued to talk about vampires over the low hum of conversation from the students, mostly Gryffindors. Harry continued to occasionally close his eyes and rub his forehead.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"My forehead hurts," he rubbed the skin under that tumble of dark hair furiously. "I think it's my scar."

Theodore took a good look at the once pale skin with the thin jagged scar. The rubbing had made the skin on the normally pale forehead turn pink but the scar looked…different.

"It's starting to bleed," he murmured.

Harry looked dubious. "Really?"

He peered closer, inspecting the thin line of moist red blood peeking out from the lightening shaped scar. "Yes. Stop rubbing it."

"M-Mr. Nott?" a voice called.

They snapped their attention to Professor Quirrell who was looking at them questioningly. "I-is e-everything a-a-alright?"

"Um, no, sir. Actually, it's just that Harry's-"

The kick from under the table made him sit up straight in his chair. "He has a headache," he finished.

Professor Quirrell gave Harry a strange look. "P-perhaps h-he sh-should s-see M-M-Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes," he said firmly. This was a chance he wanted to seize. "Should I escort him, sir?"

He received a penetrating stare and he wondered if the Professor knew that he just wanted to escape the malodorous room. "O-of c-course."

xxx

Professor Snape obviously did not believe in giving them a break in the first week; he had assigned them a three foot essay on the properties and other uses for all ingredients used in the Cure for Boils. That was going to take some precious time and Harry was determined to start early.

He found the opportune moment to do this in the History of Magic class. Professor Binns who was a ghost, something which he would have found interesting under any other circumstance, proved himself to be just as interesting as a rock. He didn't even bother with the roll call, instead commencing the lesson by telling that they would be learning about a notable Ravenclaw for the day. Granger started to take furious notes and Theodore followed to do the same with a look of resignation that spoke volumes about his opinion of the professor. The monotonous voice coupled with the mellow heat inside the room soon worked its magic and most of the class started to fight off sleep.

A good ten minutes later, more than two thirds of the class had given up and were sleeping.

"Once Uric the Oddball," Professor Binns droned on, "was convinced that the moaning of his Augureys meant that he was dead and had returned as a ghost. Under this belief, he tried to walk through the walls of his house and got a concussion that lasted ten days."

"It's a crying shame," Draco drawled to no one in particular, "that this idiot doesn't seem to realize that he is a ghost and just leave through the walls."

From the front row on the other side of the room, Granger turned her head, frowning at him reprovingly. Draco flashed a sneer at her for good measure.

Professor Binns was staring at them. Their technically dead professor looked surprised as if he hadn't realized that he had students. He obviously wasn't very concerned about it either and went back to the saga of Uric the Oddball and his fifty pet Augureys.

Unlike Professor Binns, Theodore had noticed that the notes Harry was writing neatly had nothing to do with Uric the Oddball.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Potions," Harry continued to extend the line labelled 'uses' connected to _Dried Nettles_, and considered jotting down '_gives shiny hair_' but decided against it. Professor Snape would not be impressed.

"You do realize that you will need _these_ notes, don't you?" Theodore gestured to his own parchment.

"We'll take turns. You can do some other homework in the next History of Magic class."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not interested in homework. We have just started classes. And this is bloody boring."

His voice was louder than intended and they both looked up to see if Professor Binns had noticed. He hadn't and was dutifully telling them about how Uric the Oddball had turned up at the Wizard's Council wearing nothing but a toupee that had turned to be a dead badger.

Harry leaned closer to Theodore. "You can sleep in the next class and I will wake you up if I think that Professor Binns notices."

"Deal," he agreed.

It was then when Harry noticed Theodore's handwriting.

"And for the love of Merlin," he hissed, "try writing neater than that."

"Fine."

xxx

"Harry!" the round faced boy beamed.

He gave a nod and smiled, albeit a bit unenthusiastically. "Hey, Neville."

Three weeks had passed since he had arrived at Hogwarts and when classes had first begun, he had honestly believed that History of Magic would be the worst class they would have. It had been with utter disbelief that he had discovered that Astronomy was worse, at least in his books. Unlike History of Magic, the class was held at the ungodly hour of midnight and unlike Professor Binns, Professor Sinistra actually paid attention to her students and no one got to simply fall asleep however much they wanted to. The only thing that Professor Binns and Professor Sinistra had in common was that they both taught the only two classes where the subject matter was completely useless.

The only saving grace about the Astronomy class was that it was with the Hufflepuffs. Neville, whom both Harry and Theodore were still on good terms with, was always happy to see them. Unofficial tradition decreed that the House tables in the Great Hall did not allow mixing of houses and their way to and from class was when they caught up with each other. Both Slytherins had been surprised at the increased confidence in the timid boy that they had met on the train.

Neville still steered clear of all Slytherins except Harry and Theodore and had told them that his Gran had been furious at first but had later changed her mind about his sorting.

"The next day, she wrote to me and said that it could have been worse and I could have ended up in Slytherin." Neville had said cheerfully.

Seeing the offended look on their faces, he had quickly added that he was sure that Slytherin was a very nice house too.

"To the telescopes," Professor Sinistra, called. "We will be continuing with the next planets, starting from Jupiter."

They shuffled, some of them groaning.

Harry sighed and slumped down next to his telescope that was placed neatly at the perimeter of the tower. He hoped that this would be over soon; he had plans for tonight.

xxx

He could almost smell the cold in the air; it's inexorable presence following him and clawing at his skin, fighting to get inside his clothes. Shivering slightly, he clamped his cloak tighter under his chin and walked faster, careful to keep his footsteps light.

_Splash._

He stopped, eyes immediately on the floor. It was wet and he couldn't make out for certain what it was except that it was too thick to be water.

"_Lumos_," he whispered.

The blue light filled the enclosed place and he could make out a wet puddle of something…sticky. And in the middle of the puddle was something small and was clearly dead.

He instinctively took a step back.

It looked like a rat but he wasn't completely sure. Lowering his wand, he let the more blue light wash over the skin. There was not a single strand of fur in sight and some of its innards were exposed thanks to the holes in its skin that looked as if it had been melted away. The head wasn't attached to the body and he couldn't see a tail either but it looked eerily like a rat or some kind of hamster. It smelled a bit too and his right hand went back to his cloak and he drew the fabric over his nose.

Snakes ate rats, didn't they?

This one had probably changed his or her mind about the meal a bit too late.

Skirting the puddle, he walked through. The dungeons seemed too sinister a place to walk through for too long but he intended to explore it bit by bit. The temptation was worth indulging. After all, the endless dark corridors and numerous staircases along with the sturdy walls just whispered the promises of hidden doors and secrets to be discovered.

He had found nothing of interest yet but then again, he was still close to the dormitories.

Not wanting to go back to bed yet, he made his way back to the common room, pausing at the entrance up the round staircase, carefully checking the place for the presence of other students.

The green flames were subdued and the lanterns had been dimmed, leaving the place with barely just enough light to make out the shadows of the bookshelves and furniture. The twenty six white skulls (he had counted them) seemed to glow brighter in the reduced light.

Feeling bolder and more adventurous by the minute, he made his way out. The real plan was to venture out further, close to the library and if he made it there, to check out the Restricted Section. Madam Pince was bound to be in bed and he was almost sure that there were no people assigned to patrol that area. After all, how many students would give up on sleep to sneak into the library in the middle of the night?

The corridors in the dungeons were deserted as expected and the peace was relaxing albeit impeded with the fear of being caught out of bed in the middle of the night, well after curfew.

He was torn between the desires to walk through long patches of shadows that provided plenty of cover to blend in with and to walk in the light where he could actually see where he was going.

Something small – and _alive_, grabbed onto the hems of his robes and he stifled a scream. The high pitched wail from his assailant was among the loudest he had ever heard and for a moment, he was sure that it had woken up the entire school.

He looked down, wand gripped tightly in his hands.

The scrawny body along with the dust coloured fur along was not visible but he immediately recognized the pair of yellow, lamp-like eyes glowing in the dark.

"You stupid-" Harry kicked his leg against the wall, knowing that she would let go.

She did but moved forward again just he had picked up the hurried footsteps around the corner.

Filch.

Run, his brain urged.

He broke into a sprint back into the direction he had started from.

Mrs. Norris growled and made after him. He barely registered the wheezing noise of Filch fading into the distance behind him. "Get him, my sweet! Get him!"

The dense cold wind pressed against his face as he took sharp turns, the caretaker of Hogwarts and his cat on his heels.

Filch hadn't seen him yet. All he had to do was get back into the common room and get back into his dorm. Even if Filch did go to Professor Snape, there was no way he could know that it had been him.

His footsteps echoed in the enclosed walls and he felt himself break out in a cold sweat at the imminent fear of getting caught. Mrs. Norris was faster than he would have thought possible but he was sure that Filch had fallen way behind.

He slowed down his pace a bit and braced for the pounce, swishing his wand around just as she prepared to spring herself at him.

"_Lumos!_"

She howled, flailing her paws at the sudden flood of light.

He took the chance and took off again but she was unrelenting, shaking herself off as her eyes adjusted quickly back to the dark.

It didn't matter, it had given him some headway and he had no intention of slowing down until he was back inside the safety of the common room.

It felt like an eternity before metal door loomed into view and he heard the angry howl of Mrs. Norris somewhere in the distance.

"_Serpent!_" he gasped.

It moved fast, the metal hinges parting back smoothly and silently.

The door closed behind him and he promptly smashed his head into something hard.

Thrown off balance, he stumbled to the ground, the green colour inside the room blurring in his vision for a moment. Harry straightened up slowly, clutching his forehead and groaned with the sudden flash of pain that had burst. And it wasn't a something; it was a someone he had run head first into. His back was to him and he could see that he was picking up a clothed bundle that had been knocked out of his hands. His movements were swift and took the thing off the floor before turning to him.

"Good evening, Professor," he tried to sound calm while his heart thudded with increased ferocity.

"P-Potter?"

He wondered why their DADA teacher was inside the Slytherin common room but knew that it was not his place to ask.

"Wh-Why are y-you here?" Professor Quirrell looked more nervous than he was.

"Er… Mr. Filch…" his voice trailed off.

The Professor shifted the bundle that he had tucked under his arm. That was the thing he had smashed his head into. "A-and his cat, I s-suppose?"

"Well, yes," he rubbed his forehead. The scar was hurting again.

The Professor's eyes followed his hand and interest flashed in the normally vapid eyes.

"N-no m-matter," Professor Quirrell started to move towards the door. "I-I will take c-care of it." He turned back and Harry noticed for the first time, that he looked wary. "A-anyone e-else?"

"Professor?" Harry was confused. "No. No one else. Just Mr. Filch and…his cat."

Wasn't he getting any detention or anything?

The door to the common room opened smoothly. "J-just g-go back to bed."

"Oh," he rolled his wand between his fingers. "Won't you- I mean, will you-"

Professor Quirrell glanced back once again. The small and nervous laugh was unnaturally cold and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "W-we, we will j-just forget about this, sh-shall we?"

He smiled gratefully, hoping that his own face didn't betray his interest. "Of course, Professor. Goodnight."

Harry continued to stand for a few minutes after he left, feeling the adrenaline wear off and the exhaustion creeping back into his body. He sank back into one of the large sofas.

The chase through the dungeons seemed like a memory of something that had happened long ago and he marvelled at how inside, inside this room, nothing had changed. Theodore and the others were probably still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the commotion.

Here, the fireplace continued to burn in shards of green and the skulls continued to glow. He idly wondered if they were people who had died from natural causes or had been killed. They could have been Slytherins. Or people killed by Slytherins. These were twenty three pieces that had once been parts of people who had once been alive.

He frowned.

That cupboard closest to the door had had a skull there once hadn't it?

Unsure, he counted them again.

Twenty two.

He was counting twenty two skulls now. Had he made a mistake when he had counted earlier?

Harry shook his head and stood up slowly, making his way to the fireplace to go to bed, wondering what was going on.

He hadn't made a mistake in counting. Professor Quirrell had taken or rather stolen a skull from the Slytherin common room.

Something wet dripped down onto his nose and he swiped it with the tip of his fingers. He felt his heart skip a beat at the bright and thick liquid and even though it looked brown under the light, he knew what it was.

His scar was bleeding.

xxx

**A/N: A few things.**

**1) I love writing but I just HATE re-reading my work over and over again for spelling and grammar mistakes. So apologies for any such errors and I'm on the look for a beta writer so that you won't have to suffer for my laziness.**

**2) This story might seem a bit slow but that's only because I have a story plan and I don't want to cut down too much on it. Believe me, I removed a few scenes from this chapter alone because I don't want to bore you. I realize that good writing strikes a good balance between content and quality so I am aiming for that.**

**3) Most importantly, to the 25 lovely people following this story, thank you. Kairan1979, Laverock, OrangeInk101a and dreamchild333, thank you for taking the time to leave a review. ****Vipera411, you're the best and I love you for the encouraging reviews and for pointing out the mistake I made earlier in the story. **You guys (and my love for writing) are the reasons why this is being written.

**As always, thank you for reading and please leave a review and make me happy :)**


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